aekins

hello‚ if you want my name please ask nicely. I am 18 years old.

If you're still here, and bored. Here's a poem I made! 

The morning comes uninvited,
light dull and unsure,
spilling across a life
that no longer waits for it.
I wake up already exhausted,
breathing out of habit, not desire.
The ceiling knows my thoughts by now—
the same ones that circle,
never landing, never leaving.
Time drags its feet beside me,
each hour heavier than the last.
Hope feels distant,
like a song I once knew
but can’t remember the words to.
I watch the world move on without pause—
laughter passing by,
doors opening for everyone but me.
I stand still, learning the shape of absence,
pretending the quiet doesn’t hurt.
If this is living,
it’s not loud or dramatic.
It’s the soft, endless ache
of staying,
when every part of you
has already gone.